UNCIVILISED 1: OLD SCHOOL BOXING
(SMASHWORDS EDITION / Copyright Kenneth Guthrie 2011)
Joe is a fighter in a world where violence is unlimited and death is a reality. Today he gets a deal he can’t refuse: Lord Thomson is offering $300 for a fight to the death at his mansion. Joe knows he can’t afford to refuse this one with a little daughter and not enough money coming in from his other fights. The fight that follows will burn in to the crowd’s minds the name ‘Joe the Pole’ for eternity and beyond. That is if he wins.
This magazine is about 181,000 words.
SECTIONS
UNCIVILISED 1: OLD SCHOOL BOXING
The left hook took him in the side. For someone who had just joined the pro leagues this one was tough as nails and showed a lot of promise. Unfortunately, he had just made the foolish decision of stepping into the ring with Joe the Pole.
Joe wasn't the best fighter, but he had experience. Experience in this game of boxing that was just becoming a real sport now that it had emerged from the alleys of old London was everything.
Joe brought his fist back and dropped in low. The younger man thought he was going for a long straight right. He went for the obvious counter and was completely shocked when Joe came up with a hard left upper cut that smashed into his jaw and sent him in a shower of blood to the floor.
The ring counter jumped in and gave the ten count. Joe was the victor again.
He left the ring to the screams of the crowd. He was popular among the poorer class of men that came to the ring to enjoy fantasies of being the man in the ring. Watching him and seeing his success inspired a certain animalistic emotion in some men.
Joe walked out back and noticed his manager waiting for him. A manager was a new idea, but he liked it. Joe had organized most of his fights through the backyard vendors before he got Sam to do it for him. It was a lot more pleasant and he could focus on his training and his work down at the steel mill.
Sam was still wearing his overalls. He worked for a local builder and he usually got off work too late to see more than the end of Joe's fights.
He shook Joe's big hand and smiled.
"Good win there, champ." Joe wasn't the champ, but he hadn't managed to get Sam to stop calling him that. The man would probably call him that until the day he died.
"Thanks," Joe said, "He was a little inexperienced, so it was an easy win."
Sam nodded. He knew the fight card for tonight. This fight had just been advertising to get them better fights. It was good for the crowd to see him knock people out in the first round now and then. He had a bit of a bad image as a long fight fighter, which wasn't always that exciting for the crowd to watch.
"Champ, I got another job for you," Sam said.
"Really? So soon. I appreciate it, but I don't know if I manage another fight just now. My knees are still not back to normal yet."
Sam crinkled his nose. Joe's knees were a constant annoyance to a man who only thought about profit.
"Champ. Come on! This one's a big one. It'll be great promotion and the purse is really big this time," Sam said convincingly.
"Really? How big can the purse be? Things have been a little light lately," Joe asked.
"It's three hundred dollars," Sam said with a wink.
"Three hundred? You sure they don't want me to kill someone for that?" Three hundred was a lot.
"No... well, not that I know anyway," Sam said looking to the side.
Ah, I see. Sam only did that when he had something he knew Joe wouldn't like.
There was a short period of silence. Sam met his eyes and looked away.
"Which lord is financing this?"
"Thomson." There it was.
"Thomson? That bloodthirsty bastard? You know I don't do fights for him."
On the two accessions that he had fought at the Thomson mansion, he had been asked to kill both men at the end of the fight. He had refused and hadn't been paid. The last one he had had broken ribs and the money lost meant he had to work through the healing process. He still wasn't sure if he had healed properly.
"He requested you specifically. He said he would pay you 75% upfront this time and promised he would pay the 25% remaining at the end of the fight plus a bonus if you do what he asks," Sam said.
He considered it. His main problem was the payment part. Men died in the ring all the time. They didn't wear any gloves and the rules were rarely followed to the letter.
Sam looked at him expectantly.
"Alright, but you make sure that he gives you the money upfront. I want to see the money before the fight."
Sam took his hand and shook it firmly. He was taking 15% of the overall take and this fight would feed his family for a few weeks, if Joe won.
Joe left Sam to his business and left. He had things to do.
Joe sat in the bar with Ted. They were both fighters and had been in the business for a long time.
"You can do it for me?" Joe asked.
"Yeah, no problem, Joe. I'll have it to her tomorrow," Ted said in his deep voice.
"Thanks, Ted." He paused.
"How's she doing?" He rarely asked and Ted looked at him in surprise.
"She's good. Still just a kid, but since we got her away from her mother, she's been a lot better."
Joe looked at the dozens of different colored bottles lining the wall behind the bar. That was good to know. His daughter had the bad luck to be born to one of the various whores Joe had used in his younger days when his body was young and had many needs. The woman had turned out to be an alcoholic and when another whore that knew him well had told him that she had a daughter and that she was the spitting image of Joe, he had taken responsibility and got her away from the crazed woman.
Ted took a sip from his whisky in front of him.
"You know, you could go and visit her if you want to. She knows you exist. I haven't told her what you do, but she can guess."
He adjusted his shirt a little. Ted had dozens of scars on his arms and face. The big tattoo on the left hand side was enough to give away that he wasn't just the normal man.
"I know, but I don't have a very safe life. You know that. People will use her against me if it became public knowledge I had a daughter."
Ted nodded. He had had problems in the past that had lead to the death of his wife five years ago. His new wife lived outside of the city on a small farm that Ted had bought after a big win a few years ago. She and Ted's brother made a tidy living on the farm and they were hoping to expand if Ted could win another big fight.
"I have to go. Sam has a fight set up for me and I need to rest up for it tomorrow," Joe said finally.
Ted stood up and handed Joe his coat from the chair beside him.
"Take it easy, Joe. You're limping a bit and you know what that means."
Ted knew Joe well and they had fought each other a number of times in the past. He knew what happened when Joe's knee gave out. It wasn't pretty.
Joe stood outside with Sam. Sam was counting the money and smiling deeply. They would keep this amount regardless of what happened inside the well lit mansion in front of them.
Joe shifted his little tie a little. The lord had supplied him with some clothing so that the police wouldn't become suspicious when he and the other fighters entered.
Joe didn't know if that helped any. The clothing was a bit small and didn't fit very well. Joe was a massive man with big arms and legs and scars on his sun browned face. His scruff short brown hair and wide shoulders would have marked him as someone who didn't belong here.
The gate guards waved them through and Sam and Joe walked down the lane to the mansion. Lord Thomson was one of the richest lords of the city. He had enough wealth that he no longer needed to work. He now made his money running illegal fights at his mansions for the lords and ladies of the city.
Joe entered the mansion and a servant took them to a small room. Joe put down his bag and stripped down to put on his clothing. There was a knock on the door.
A young maid put her head around the door and blushed. Joe was a big man in more way than one – that was how he got the name ‘Joe the Pole’. Joe covered himself.
"Good sir, the lord requests an audience," she said starring at the towel with a look of embarrassment on her face.
Joe nodded and she left after Sam closed the door on her.
"What do you think he wants?" Sam asked.
"Probably just a pep talk before the fight," Joe said.
Joe put on his trunks and a shirt he brought with him. He would want to be decent for the lord's audience.
"Joe, so nice of you to return to us again," the red faced skinny man said happily.
"It's nice to be back, sir," Joe replied.
"Joe, I hope we can see a good fight tonight. You won't be too squeamish like the last few times tonight will you? People want to see some action this time."
He knew exactly what the lord meant and he had no intention of killing a defenseless man.
"Sure, I'll make it as exciting as I can, sir."
The lord smiled and gave him a big pat on the shoulder before sending Joe on his way.
That man is annoying, Joe thought to himself as he walked back to his dressing room.
He strolled down the hall and looked at the paintings on the wall. If Joe was a thief, this place would have been a gold mine.
A big black man came down the hallway from the other direction. He was followed by another smaller man.
Joe kept walking and the two meet in the middle of the hallway.
"Joe the Pole," the man said in a husky accented voice, "I've heard of you."
Joe met the man's eyes. This one had the look of a murder. His black skin was so dark that Joe could barely see the scars that crisscross his face. He was an intimidating man and Joe knew straight away that this would be the man that the lord had set him up to fight. So the lord wants to see me dead, does he? This one might just make that a reality.
"I'm Joe, who are you?" he asked calmly.
"You'll find out," the man said pushing past Joe and walking towards where the lord was entertaining his guests.
Joe looked back. The man was bigger than him. At least two hands across the shoulders and with powerful looking arms. He would be hard to beat.
Joe kept on walking. Things were getting interesting.
Joe stood waiting in the corner of the room. The announcer up top near the lord nearly screamed out his name as he called him into the ring. Three dead bodies already inhabited the coffins set to the side of the ring. It was meant as a warning for other fighters entering the ring. There were no gloves and no limits here. You beat your opponent to death or unconsciousness. There was no other way to win.
The black man stood waiting for him on the big stone square in the middle. There were no ropes on this ring. If you went out of the ring, you fought in the crowds. Anything goes was the name of the game.
Joe put his fist out in front of him. The man knocked it hard enough to make a loud slapping sound. The announcer didn't waste any time in starting the fight. The nobles were already screaming for blood and even the ladies were standing up and pumping their fists for more.
The announcer yelled and it began. The big man was fast. He hit Joe twice in the jaw and once in the stomach before he had time to react.
Joe edged back and dodged a punch. He would need to be careful with this one. The man came in and over balanced a little on the jagged floor. He came forward slightly too far and Joe took advantage. He hit him hard in the ribs and then tried for a combination, but found the other man with his guard up and ready.
The man returned the favor seconds later and pain stung through Joe's ribs. It was the same point he had broken the last time he was here.
Joe got pushed back and slid to the edge of the ring. The man came in fast and Joe went to the side. He dodged under the man's arm and laid in two big punches to the man's side and one to the back of the man's head.
The man went forward and landed two steps down on his knees. Joe waited for him to get up and he came forward with a vengeance. The man threw punch after punch and Joe found himself wavering backwards.
He felt himself get to the side of the ring and tried to step aside. The man pushed him backwards and he landed on his right foot on the floor below.
There was a shot of agony as his knee that had been sore before started to scream at him to stop moving. He stood still and two wild shots took him on either side of the jaw. He went down in a heap and blacked out for a second.
His eyes opened to the man bringing his fist up for one last finishing shot. This guy wasn't going to hold back.
The punch came down and Joe barely moved out of the way. The man's fist collided with the stone floor and there was a mighty crack. Joe grabbed his hand and brought his left fist up hard into the man's open mouth.
The man's scream was blocked off by five hard knuckles that took teeth with them. The man choked and fell back. Joe stood up and tested his leg - just a twitch. He was mostly ok.
He rushed over to the man who was now choking up blood on the floor. He brought his hand under the man's face and rammed it upwards with all his strength. The man's face came up and blood flowed freely from his agonized face. He fell back and was out.
Joe looked around. The crowd was screaming and he stood strong as the victor.
"Finish him! Finish him! Finish him!" Even the lord was up on his feet wild eyed and crying for blood.
Joe looked down at the man. The lord might kill him anyway for losing, but maybe not. Sam was standing near the door. He knew Joe and he was ready.
Joe sprinted from the ring and ran through the open door Sam held for him. He ran through the hallway and out of the mansion as the screaming stopped behind him. He was out the gate before anyone even thought to try and stop him.
He ran down the road in his shorts and boots. It had been an amazing fight and the lord would forgive him for this. Sam would smooth things over either way. He ran into the night with a happy spring to his step. He always felt great after a good fight.
"Sam, what happened to your eye?" Joe asked in concern.
"Oh, this? The other guys manager tried to knock me out," Sam said with a complete lack of concern.
"Wow, that's different."
"Yeah, really was, but it doesn't matter. The guy you nearly killed will live to fight again and even better I have something good for you." Sam held out a letter.
"Sam, I can't read," Joe reminded him.
"Oh, sorry. I forgot." He opened the letter and pulled out the flyer inside.
"The lord was pretty happy with your fight even though you didn't finish the guy off properly. In fact, as you were billed to lose that one, he made a massive amount off your little win."
The lord bet on me? He must have more faith in me than I thought.
Sam turned the flyer over.
"You are going to fight the champ next month," he said with a grin.
Joe let out a little cry and picked up Sam in his big arms.
"You have to be kidding me? How?" Sam was trying to escape being crushed.
"How? The lord paid for it. It took a bit of convincing, but he agreed."
He let Sam down and stood looking out at the water from the docks. This was his dream. The professional championship would pay him all he would need to take a long break from the small time stuff he was doing right now. This was an opportunity of a lifetime.
He went back to work with a great sense of happiness. Things were really looking up for him now.
UNCIVILISED 2: THE CHAMPIONSHIP
Joe is back and this time he’s going to take on the champ. He’s had a month of training and he couldn’t be more ready. Little does he know Lord Thomson has a surprise waiting for him that will change his life. Read on to find out about Joe’s biggest fan.
SECTIONS
UNCIVILISED 2: THE CHAMPIONSHIP
POSTER BOY
Joe stood outside of the hall. It was a place specifically designed for these kinds of fights and was part of the new age of boxing that he was so much a part of at the moment.
Sam stood next to him looking up. Someone had painted on a big sheet his name right under the champ and there were also stylized posters by local artists who would be working for the company that ran the fights.
"They drew me a little small, don't you think?" he said fingering one poster of him fighting a big black man.
"I don't know. I think it’s quite charming," Sam said.
"Charming? He's bleeding on me and my face looks like I'm having a hard time in the toilet," Joe said skeptically.
"Well, no artist is perfect," Sam replied.
Joe sighed. Sam was impossible.
Joe and Sam walked into the building and took the route to the dressing rooms. The inside of the building was lit by a few electric lights that had started to replace the candles and lanterns that people had been using up to now. They were a strange thing and Joe always felt a little concerned that the little white globes would explode and burn him. He had heard they had a tendency to do that.
Joe walked into his dressing room and sat down. He looked in the slightly cracked mirror on the wall, which was the only real ornamentation in the room. He was in great shape.
The lord had advanced them some of tonight's fight money and told Joe in no uncertain terms that he expected Joe to be in top shape. Joe had cut back on the fights and concentrated on training during the times he wasn't working at the steel mill, which was good training in itself. He felt top of his game tonight and he knew that he was going to give the champ the fight of his life tonight.
Sam left the room and left Joe to his pondering. Sam would need to make sure the company that was running the fight and Lord Thomson were comfortable and well taken care of. Joe had really started to see the value of having Sam as his manager as long as Joe kept a firm eye on how much he was taking as his cut.
He sat back and relaxed. Tonight would be all his dreams come true. He was ready.
LONG TIME NO SEE
Sam came running into the dressing room wide eyed.
"Champ!" he cried.
"I'm not the champ yet, what's wrong?" Joe asked calmly.
"There's a big problem," he said. His voice was quavering.
"What type of problem? Has the champ not turned up?" That would be bad. No fight meant no money. Joe would not be pleased.
"No, worse. Come on! He's waiting for you."
Joe stood up and followed Sam, who didn't wait for him to ask any more questions. Sam ran straight for the box where only the wealthiest of men would have their seats.
What's going on? he wondered for the second time. Sam was not the calmest of people, but today he was acting in a way that made Joe uneasy.
Joe stepped through the doorway and his eyes shot open. Ted was sitting at the back of the box with a man behind him pressed much to close. A small girl sat quietly next to Lord Thomson with a lolly in one hand. She looked up as he came in then went back to her lolly.
He sighed in relief. She didn't recognize him. He looked at Ted who grimaced. Ted was the fighter he had entrusted his daughter too. He was a good man and tough as nails. They must have one of his family as well. Probably his wife or brother. The man behind him didn't look that tough. Ted would have had him for lunch.
"Lord Thomson," he said the name through clenched teeth, "Good to see you again."
The lord looked over at Joe from where he was sitting with a woman that Joe assumed was his wife.
"Good to see you too, Joe," he said in a relaxed manner, "Have you met Ted's daughter? She's such a lovely young lady."
He stroked the back of Joe's daughter's head and Joe nearly lurched forward to break the man's head in two.
Lord Thomson eyed Joe and took his hand away. He knew he was walking a fine line right now and Joe wasn't one to obey the rules in these sorts of situation.
He looked hard at Joe over the girl's head. She was still eating her lolly and ignoring both of them. She probably thought this was all some strange adult thing that she wasn't supposed to be involved in. He was thankful that she was still innocent enough for that.
"So you want me to throw the fight?" Joe asked. There could be no other reason for this.
"No, I want you to win," the man replied firmly.
"You want me to win? Then why this little show?" Joe asked in surprise.
"Because you are not properly motivated. You never have been in my opinion."
Joe knew what he meant. Lord Thomson thought that just because he hadn't killed a few men in his blood boxing matches on his estates that he wasn't ready for this. He couldn't have been more wrong.
"Give her back and let him and whoever you have go and I'll win for you," Joe commanded.
The little girl looked up frightened. Joe was being a little rough.
"Of course, James, release the man and send him to sit with his wife. The girl will stay here with Mr. Crockfield and I until the end of the match."
Joe got it. He didn't need Ted anymore and it was one less problem to manage. Sam would have to stay and protect his daughter until the end of the fight.
He turned to Sam as Ted left with the man who was obviously holding a knife to his back.
"Look after her," he said as he clapped the man on the shoulder. Sam would do whatever he could. He knew that.
Joe walked back through the door and left his daughter with that monster Thomson. He hoped she would be ok.
The ring was bright. Joe wasn't used to seeing this many electric lights in one place. It was hotter than he thought it would be.
The champ stood on the other side of the ring. He had his manager talking to him from his side. Joe had done his research. The man was from somewhere in Europe, but had made a name for himself quickly in the ring in London. After everything started to go mainstream, he cut his way through the dozens of weaklings that flooded the ranks of pro-boxing and had taken the crown. Since then he had fought a number of the better fighters and had won decisively. He would be a hard, difficult fighter to beat and Joe, although he was ready, was worried. It was hard to focus with his daughter watching from up top.
The bell rang and the first round began. They circled each other faking to see if one of them would give an early opening. He was good. In fact, he was far better than Joe in almost every way.
Their brown eyes met and Joe was the first to throw a punch. He missed by a long shot and the return combo pummeled his stomach and pushed him back to the ropes. The air went out of his lungs and he fell back.
What a way to start a fight, he thought. He was blacking out in the first few seconds the other man was that powerful.
Joe caught the man in his arms and pushed him away. The champ stepped back a bit and let him get a handle on himself. The crowd had paid a lot of money to come tonight and he would have been told to run it out a bit.
Joe pushed off the ropes and came forward using the extra momentum. He couldn't breathe, but it didn't matter. He didn't care if the fight ended quickly. His daughter was more important than a few people's feelings.
His fist came in fast and low. The champ covered up, but Joe brought it around the side of his fists and smashed him straight in the side of the head. The crowd screamed and the champ's eyes traveled sideways as his head took the shot and tilted to the side.
He came back swinging. The champ hadn't expected Joe to want to finish this quickly, so had expected a few body blows before the main event. The shot just before had been a finishing hit. Joe wouldn't get the chance again.
Joe took the next few hits on his arms. They were wearing no gloves as this was a real match. Gloves had become popular in the lower ranking matches because they drew things out longer, but in professional matches, no one was using them. Hence, his arms stung as each powerful hit took their toll on his forearms.
He pushed one punch aside and aimed an uppercut at the other man's face. It connected and the champ fell to the ground.
Is it over? The crowd, judging by their screams, certainly thought so.
The champ waited it out and stood up easily. He had taken his time and was ready. Joe came in and was pushed back by a hail of punches. The champ was looking to finish this and he had decided now was the time.
Joe took hit after hit until he could feel his face bruising up and his eyes closing from the agony of the other man's knuckles breaking his face up.
He fell to the ground and the world flew into slow motion. He lay on the ground and starred out to his side. The world and his vision pulsed. Everything was one massive haze. He looked up towards the lights. The announcer was up to five now. Only five more and he would lose.
He saw her then. She was like the angel her mother had never been. She was standing and screaming his name. He could hear it echoing in his head. She knows my name, he thought through the haze.
That one thought brought him back from the edge. He found himself standing just as the announcer yelled nine. The champ was looking at him in surprise. He thought he had won too.
Joe put up his hands and went in. He had nothing to lose, but his daughter and that was too higher price for him to pay. He was a killer in blue shorts tonight.
The champ tried to hit him a few times. He was fast even in the slow motion world Joe existed in. Joe took the hits and kept on coming. He flew to the side and used the motion to bring his other fist around. It connected wildly above the man's eye. The man staggered back as blood trailed from above his eye.
Joe came forward and tried again for the uppercut. This time it connected and the man hit the ropes. Joe came in again and hit again. This time the uppercut took him in the same place and threw the champ over the ropes to land hard on the stone floor. He hit head first. He wasn't getting up.
Joe's knees hit the floor as the announcer screamed "Champion. A new champion" over the screams of the crowd.
He stood up slowly and Ted ran into the ring.
"You're ok, Joe. You did it."
Joe looked up and saw his daughter cheering him on and Lord Thomson clapping at his side. Sam looked relieved beside her. They had done it.
"His name is Joe. He's a friend of mine," Ted said.
"Joe. Nice to meet you." She stuck her hand out and took his hand. It was so cute.
His hand enclosed hers and he relished his first touch. He had never really met her, only that one time when he had taken her from her alcoholic whore of a mother when she was a baby.
"Nice to meet you, Jess," he said.
"Oh, how did you know my name?" she asked.
"Umm... oh, Ted told me one time." Ted chuckled behind her and gave him the thumbs up.
"We should go home now, Jessica. It's getting late," Ted said saving Joe from making a fool of himself.
Jessica looked up at Ted and smiled. She was an amazing child, Joe thought. He was happy she could grow up like this.
Ted and his wife took Jess's hands in theirs and waved goodbye to Joe.
"See you later, champ," Ted said as he left.
Joe felt a little moisture in his eyes. He was thankful to have such a good friend.
Jess turned just before she left and called out to him.
"Great fight, champ!" His daughter had recognized him. Somehow it felt so much better than anything anyone had ever said to him.
He waved at her and Sam patted him on the shoulder.
"One day you can tell her," he said sympathetically.
Joe nodded. He would at that, but for now he had new challenges ahead of him. He was the champ now after all.
In one night a man loses everything to the vile evil that is the orcs. What follows is this man's vengeance and the beginnings of one of the heroes of The War of Blood and Bones. Find out who inside!
SECTIONS
LAST EMBRACE OF A FATHER
The forest was a mixture of greens and grays. This area was one of the best farming areas in the southern region of the King's lands. It was famed for its high quality wheat, which feed many of the King's personal bakeries.
The little farm that had stood there through generation after generation wasn't large by the standards of this area. The farmers who had worked this land hadn't been so much focused on extending their fields as growing good crops for the people of this area. They did their part and expected little in return for their efforts, but an honest wage and minimal tax. Unfortunately, in recent years the later had hardly been minimal. Still, the wages were enough for the family that lived on this small patch of farm land to survive.
The farmer was in his field right now. Every day he would work on growing the plants that were his family's livelihood. His brownish tunic and torn pants were a testament to his hard working nature. His wife had managed to give birth to a baby girl two years ago and ever since the farmer had been working harder to cover for the cost of the extra mouth to feed.
He didn't really mind though. They had struggled to have this one child and he would have gladly have had more if his wife's body was able.
The tanned brown haired man patted his brow with a dirty brown patched cloth that he always carried with him. Long ago his wife had given it to him on the day he had taken her to the festival of the king to dance away the evening. It was their first time out in public together - they had been carrying on out of the public eye for sometime before that - and he remembered with pleasure how touched he had been by the gift, which was handmade and had his name and hers embroidered in the corner. It always reminded him of her when he held it in his hand.
Looking up to the sun and judging that it was near enough to midday to stop working for now, he picked up the hoe he had been using to carve a new irrigation trench for the pumpkins he was trying to grow. Pumpkins were a bit of a rare vegetable in this area and he had been very lucky to buy them so cheaply from a passing goblin who was heading into the orc plains just across the boundary line a few dozen leagues away.
The man walked towards the small house he had built with his own two hands. It wasn't the best of houses and would hardly be considered pretty by the standard of the big inns in the merchant town to the south of here, but it was homely enough for him and his wife and he were proud of what they had created by their own efforts.
He walked up the little wooden steps they had put in since his daughter had started to explore the outside of the house more often on her own. He was always careful when she went outside, lest she got lost or some animal or other creature chose to make her its meal.
He sat down on the chair he’d put on the porch for enjoying an occasional mug of mead with his wife when the opportunity presented itself. His wife was very harsh on him when it came to wearing his boots inside. He really didn't understand what the problem was, but he guessed it was a woman thing and not to be understood by men. His father had said to him that women were a lot like cats. If they were happy with you, you were alright, but if you did them one bad turn they would turn their tail up at you and go their own way. Nothing he had heard so far had proved this not to be true.
He knocked on the door as he walked into the house. His wife always like to know when someone was in the house and knocking before entering, even though it was his own house, had become a natural part of that. It didn't really bother him that his wife was picky about things like this. When she was younger her parents and all of her siblings had died at the hands of the orcs in a small village a lot closer to the boundary line than they were now. It had been a fairly vicious battle and had been the talk of the neighboring towns for some time after that. If knocking made her feel more comfortable then he was happy to do it.
The man entered the small kitchen at the back. His wife was there making what looked to be that sweet bread she enjoyed so much.
He cleared his throat as stepped up behind him. She turned to him and smiled that beautiful smile of hers, which always made him feel so alive inside. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever met. Her red hair was long and silky and it curled in a way that cupped her stunningly rounded face and enticing brown eyes that always set him on fire every time he gazed too long into them.
She came up on to her toes to give him a kiss on the cheek before turning back to her work. She was a head or so shorter than him, but she was full in figure as a woman should be and had a voluptuousness that was the envy of many of her friends in the local area.
He had to admit that he was a very lucky man. Most of the men in the area had tried to court her in her youth before they married. He didn't really understand why she had chosen him, something to do with manly arms she told him, but he was glad to be with her.
"Where is Cathy?" he asked, looking for the tell tale red bob of hair sticking out from behind the furniture that would tell him that his daughter was at her games of hide and seek with him again.
"She was in the eating room before trying to read some of those books you keep buying," his wife replied in her smooth, gentle voice.
"She was reading?" That would be impressive even for his talented little sweet heart.
"Trying to," his wife said as she rolled her eyes at the thought of a two year old finding an interest in the history books he enjoyed reading after dinner sometimes in the dying light of the day.
"Oh, well, I'm glad she takes after me a little," he said with a smile. His daughter was a chip off the old block - just not off him.
"Of course, honey,"
"I think I'll go see if I can find her. There was a flower I found in the garden today that I want to show her."
"Ok, but don't tire her out too much. She needs to be awake enough to enjoy her dinner," she said as she went back to rolling the dough she had in her hands.
He gave her a little squeeze on the bum and made his way out of the kitchen. She was the best wife he could ever hope for and he was blessed to have her.
His daughter was sitting next to his shoes on the porch when he finally found her. She was small for her age, probably taking after her mother, but had a big mop of red hair that she refused to cut on her head. Her eyes were the deep brown of her mother, but she had his nose. Overall, she would be more of a beauty than her mother given time. He was already hoping she would marry into a good family and find the man of her dreams. He sometimes wondered if all fathers thought so far ahead about their daughters.
She turned and bounced from her seat on the little steps he had built for her.
"Daddy! Where were you?"
She always asked him that after he disappeared from his usual place in the fields for any length of time. She had a sense of routine that was typical of all of the children he had met of her age group. He found it endearing.
"Taking to your mum, youngster," he replied with a chuckle.
"Well, don't take so long, ok. I was worried!"
"Sorry, sweetie, I felt like taking a break with you two today."
"OW! That's ok then, daddy. Do you want to play hide and seek?"
He chuckled. She loved hide and seek. It was, in her opinion, the best game ever invented.
"Not now, ok. How about we go see something? I want to show you before dinner?"
"OW! Something special? Can we go now, please, please, please?"
She was so cute when she was like this. He picked her up and put her on his shoulder. She was still very small, so he could barely feel her weight.
He walked over to where he had seen the flower. It was a small gold and silver thing with wide petals and a small stem. His daughter was much smarter than he was at her age. She had already gained a good control of the language they spoke in the southern parts and her ability to move around was more than most of the girls and boys in the area.
He put her down on the ground and she immediately went over to inspect the flower. It was always lovely to watch his daughter like this. She really was the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life.
He sat down with her and watched her stare at the flower in concentration trying to discern as much as she could about its shape, color and size.
Time passed and soon his wife was calling from the porch for them to come in and eat dinner. His daughter, who had started to run around in the pumpkin patch, turned her head at hearing the word 'dinner' mentioned in a sentence and started to run joyously for the porch.
He smiled and followed her inside.
DEATH ON THE ROAD
Two days later, he was walking down the small hill leading to the Twelling's farm. It was a small farm like his, but was the closest in the area. His friend Logan would probably have come back from town by now with the kegs of beer that he had paid him good silver to get for him. He was eager to get them and be back to his farm before nightfall.
The small farm that Logan ran with his wife Katey and their three boys was well situated near the small creek that ran through Logan's and his territory. It was a nice enough place and well cared for. Logan's boys were all of marrying age now and it was expected that one of them would bring home a wife to populate the farm with their brood.
Katey was standing on the front porch watching the road that led towards the town.
He waved and she waved back.
"Katey, good to see you. Is Logan around?" he asked as he walked up to where she was standing.
"Not yet. He should have been back a long time ago." She looked worried, but he knew that Logan was often late and it was almost always because he had found a wine skin at one of the little inns or bars that dotted the main road between the town and the turn off that led to their farms.
"Hmm... you know Logan. He's probably enjoying a quiet drink somewhere on the way home," he said reassuringly, "I'm sure he'll be home soon."
"You are probably right," Katey said.
"I'll let him know that you want him to hurry if I find him along to road somewhere."
"That would be appreciated," she said.
He waved and went back down the road towards his farm. The sun would be well below the horizon before he got home, so he knew that he would need to hurry if he wanted to get home before dark.
CORPSES
He had seen it lying in the trees at the edge of the road, but hadn't realized what it was until he got close. There was a ring on the third finger that he knew very, very well. The problem was that was about all of what there was left of its owner. The forearm showed obvious bite marks and there was blood in the bushes with sloppy wet red chunks of something he didn't want to contemplate on the ground nearby.
He turned towards his home and started to sprint as fast as he could. Logan hadn't gotten home for a reason. He hadn't been drunk; he'd been dead.
He turned the corner and his worst fears were confirmed. All of the lights were out in his home and the door was hanging off the hinges. Please, no, he thought as he ran to the door.
With no concern for his safety, he pushed through the door and ran into the eating area. No one here. There was still hope.
He took two big strides and he was in the kitchen. The scene that greeted him was like something out of a nightmare.
His beautiful daughter was beautiful no more. Parts of her body, torn off, were scattered around the room and her head leaned up against a block of cheese that was probably tonight's dinner.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down on the chewed face of his child. His wife and he had cherished her more than anything else; now something had taken that from him.
He sobbed as he turned from the messy sight of his daughter and picked up the kitchen knife sitting next to block of cheese. It had blood on it. Probably his daughter's.
The man in his brown tunic and torn pants slowly made his way to the back door. He had heard scuffling in that direction when he entered the room and was sure that whatever had done this was probably outside waiting for him to come investigate - he was in an obliging mood.
Stepping out from the back porch, he turned to find a grayish shape chewing on something very human. It turned as it saw him and skittered away a bit from him. It was big, bigger than any human could be. One word reverberated in his mind: Orc.
The creature took one look at him and started to move towards the woods. It must have been something to do with the light in his eyes that spoke of death to those that had partaken of this wickedness on his family or maybe the creature had had its full. He didn't know and didn't care.
He ran towards the human shape on the ground and found his wife. She was still breathing, but there wasn't much left of her to save. Her legs had been snapped in three or four places and her arms had deep cuts that poured forth blood onto the white dress she had been wearing before he left.
Her eyes were glazed over, but he heard her last words as she slipped into unconsciousness.
"Is Cathy alright?" she whispered, her eyes half open and closing as she went into a sleep that could only result in death.
He looked down on her in her last moments and was able to put aside his grief for a moment.
"Yes, my love. She's safe hiding in the closet," he lied.
His wife smiled slightly as she closed her eyes for the last time.
He stood and starred down at the gruesome sight that was his wife. The orc would have friends. He knew they travelled in packs. He looked in the direction that one had disappeared.
A hot burning hate boiled up in him. It was so hot that he felt his insides turn and his stomach growl as his whole body tensed. He started running madly towards the forest.
"Damn you, orcs!" he screamed over and over, hoping they would hear him, so he might dispatch them from their evil little lives.
He ran as fast as he could in the direction he thought the orc had gone. Half way across a field, long ago abandoned by the family that moved further to the north to grow strange orange round fruit, he saw the orc. It was running as fast as it could towards the forest on the other side.
He was already winded, but he drove his feet harder into the soft earth. The rage inside him numbed everything and he kept moving even when he would have normally given into the pull of exhaustion on his body.
The grey shape got closer and closer. He knew that he wouldn't catch it before it reached the edge of the forest, but he would get it soon after.
The two shapes raced in the night. The orc running for its own reasons and the human running to fulfill the purpose that hateful beast had given him: to bring death on it in the most painful of ways.
He ran into the forest and finally caught up to the orc. It was breathing very hard and turned with a snarl when it heard his heavy footsteps behind it.
The man could see a fire in the distance with two big creatures standing around it. This one had led him its camp. It didn't matter. He would dispatch this one and then the other two.
He moved forward. He had never faced an orc before, but had fought in taverns in his youth and knew enough about fighting to hold his own against most humans.
The creature pulled a small hatchet from its belt. It was an odd choice of weapon for an orc, but he wasn't really one to judge, holding his home's kitchen knife in his right hand.
They met in a clang of metal. The orc came in low and hard trying to slice into the man's unprotected belly. It was slow enough for the man to catch on the knife and twist around.
He pushed the hatchet away and cut out with the knife aiming for the soft cheek of the monster. It was a good clean cut and the knife penetrated the skin to stick into the creature's solid jaw. He pulled backward with the knife, twisting it so that bladed side was facing towards the area he wished to cut as he pulled the knife back out.
The creature's cheek was completely severed on one side now and he had taken a good part of its tongue and gums with it as well. The orc bellowed in agony and slashed wildly at the man. Fighting an orc wasn't much different from fighting a large man, if you didn't consider that an orc was significantly stronger. The orc was slow and even with its wild slashes it was not enough to score a hit on the fast moving farmer.
The man blocked the hatchet and angled his blade so it cut into the forearm of the orc. The beast immediately dropped the weapon as the blade sliced into the tendons and muscles that held its arm together and laid the veins and arteries in its arm bare.
The farmer stepped in for the kill, but was interrupted by the other two orcs rushing in and swinging massive axes at him from either side. He skipped back and the orcs missed their target. He sized up the new combatants. These two were a little more powerful looking and those axes certainly looked much heavier than the small weapons that he and the other orc had, who was trying to pick up its bloody hatchet in its other hand.
He spun around a tree and picked up a handful of stones as he did. One of the foolish orcs chased him around the tree to be greeted by a handful of dust that blinded it long enough for the man to kick it in the groin and throw a right hook that knocked the monster's big head to the side.
He turned as the other orc with the big axe came around the corner. It saw its comrade in danger and charged at him. Its sweeping strikes were hard to avoid and impossible to parry with the flimsy kitchen knife. The man thought that he would soon be dead when the creature swung a big side on cut that nearly cleaved him in half. Thankfully, he was standing right next to the tree he had circled before and as he ducked the bladed edge of the axe bit so deeply into the wood that it was lodged there for a moment as the orc tried to pull its blade free.
The farmer took his chance and slashed the arm holding the axe. The orc released and the man stepped in close and stabbed the unprotected side of the orcs body several times in short succession.
He must have gotten lucky as the orc fell to the ground in a heap. He turned to find the other orc slowly recovering. Wasting no time, he threw his knife at the creature and it impacted the soft flesh of the beast's exposed upper chest. The throw was the best he had ever managed in his life and it cut through the flesh and pieced the bone underneath.
The beast also fell to the ground and was dead on hitting the soft earth of the forest floor. It was a very lucky throw indeed.
The man started towards the other side of the tree to find his original prey, but it found him. The hatchet glittered in the corner of his eye for a moment as the gleaming blade come around and cut deeply into his chest.
It was a horrific wound and one that seemed to send him into a black world that he couldn't really understand. He awoke to find himself on the ground next to the dead orc he had killed with the throw before. Above him was the orc with the hatchet, who was grinning viciously down at him.
There was no escape and nowhere to go. The hatchet came down and cut into his leg. It was a shallow cut this time and burned as it cut into the flesh of his thigh.
He groaned and the orc yelped with glee. He opened his eyes through the pain and saw the ecstasy on the ugly orc's face. It was going to play with its food before eating it he realized. Looking up at the murderer of his family, he could not let this one have its way. Kicking out with the last of his strength he jammed his foot just under the unprotected knee of the orc. He felt and heard the following crack that bent the orc's knee straight back on a disgusting angle.
It fell on top of him and they struggled with each other. It was a raw struggle of biting, kicking and fists thrown for tender places. Each scored hits with no thought of defense. It was winner take all.
The darkness set in quickly as he started to lose consciousness from the blood loss and the hits the orc was scoring on him. Even after running all the way from the house and with a mutilated arm and leg the orc still fought with great strength. He felt his mind slipping into darkness, when his hand found a sharp object lying on the ground beside him. He grabbed it instinctively and rammed whatever it was into the orc's face. Whatever it was it cut into his own hand too and he felt immense pain coming from his hand.
The orc stiffened and fell on top of him. The farmer pushed weakly and was able to get the orc off him. His vision cleared for a moment and he saw the curved hatchet sticking out of the orc's eye socket. Its other eye starred up to the starry sky above them blindly. He had managed it he realized as darkness slipped in. His revenge.
HEALER
A while later he felt hands lifting him and moving him somewhere. He opened his eyes weakly and saw one of the Logan boys holding a bandage to his chest as two men, he had to assume they were the other two brothers, held him up on either side.
"You're going to be alright, Seth," the boy said to him through the haze, "We'll get you to old Herbet the healer soon."
He wanted to tell them the truth that he had learned. He would never, ever be alright. His little girl's head sitting on his kitchen table would insure that stayed true forever.
A LONG TIME LATER
Hob awoke with a start. It had been years since he had had the full dream, or should he call it a nightmare. His wife Samantha's face and his little daughter had haunted him every day for years now, but since meeting Commander Thomas and Luke, the pain had eased a bit. Strange that now it should be so raw in him again.
He fingered the wound on his hand. The scar there and the other on his chest hadn't healed well. He could still use his hand perfectly well, but he had less feeling in it than a man should. It was a constant reminder of those filthy beasts that took from him his little Cathy.
Seth, who called himself Hob now, sat up. He should go back to sleep before they marched tomorrow. Commander Thomas had come back with news that they were to search out a party of orcs that had been troubling the orcs. Hob knew that it was just a pretense for Thomas to go out and inflict hurt on the orcs. He had read the message the scout had brought in a few days and he knew exactly what sort of state his commander was in right now.
Turning over on his side, he thought to himself that letting the commander have his revenge would be good for both of them. With a smile, he closed his eyes and fell asleep. He would see his daughter and wife again where they lived on for him: In his nightmares. Somehow in his half-mad mind that was ok with him.
DEATH OF A BROTHER
The evil, twisted orc Lark is back for another round of greed and maddening violence in this powerful short story that takes the reader back to the early days when Lark was much less than he is now. Watch as he struggles to hold on to life in a maelstrom of death and destruction that can only be referred to as 'the orc way of life' and find out exactly how his brother met his death.
SECTIONS